Monday, October 31, 2016

The Song That Ended (DRAFT)

So today I learned about Trimeric poetry.  I don’t know if I did it right but I like how it turned out and am presenting it here for your opinion.  It’s about a real kid and a real song and a real love we share.  I get such a kick out of him, and I think he does with me too.

Headed out to trick-or-treat tonight, but figured I’d leave you with this little gem. 


The Song That Ended

There was a song I sang with him
That had no end
We’d sing on and on
And our voices would blend.

There was no end and it made us sing all the harder
If it bothered someone
We were none the wiser.

It was our song and we sang it non-stop with glee
My part, then his
We sang joyfully.

Blending our voices with joy, then, but the seeds were still sown
He’ll sing no more with me,
Now that he’s grown.

Let me know what you think!
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Twitter:  @jennifermcann06

Wednesday, October 19, 2016

Dressing For It

A friend of mine recently posted on Facebook about men saying that a girl asked for “It”, meaning to be raped, by dressing provocatively.  (He does not believe this sentiment, but made a remark about it) His friends, not all, but some, suggested that women did dress for it, by wearing low-cut tops and short skirts and spandex leggings.  We are all sex maniacs and looking for it everywhere from anyone.

And seriously guys, I’m sick of it.  You ask why we dress this way if we don’t want to get sexed up.  Well here is my reason.

Confidence.  From the time I was old enough to go clubbing I would dress provocatively.  In this area, in the 90’s, a crop top and jeans was sexy.    It wasn’t low cut.  I wore my “uniform” with a flannel shirt, leather jacket, and yes, combat boots.  I know you’re thinking that the outfit definitely isn’t sexy.  Well, apparently it was because I got plenty of offers.  Not just one-night-stand offers, but guys who really wanted to forge a relationship.  At the time I only had eyes for one guy and he knew it and all the other guys were out of luck.  My outfit made me feel good about myself.  Feeling good about myself apparently made me attractive to the opposite sex.  Therefore, I was sexy.

When I worked at a golf course I dressed in shorts and tank tops.  Less is more when you work as a golf cart girl.  Tips are good, even when you are sporting a small B cup.  When the dress code changed and I had to wear longer shorts and a polo shirt, the tips went down.  As much as men want to say we’re asking for sex, we are trying to get ahead in a dick driven economy.  I was trying to make my way through school.  The tips supplemented my hourly wage.  Tips dip, my pocket empties faster.  It’s a man's world, no matter how far women have come.  We still have a long way to go, baby.

Twenty years later I work in an office.  I wear a dress to work.  I wear skirts and tank tops.  I wear tall boots and I wear heels.  I wear a push-up bra.  I’m learning to dress for success.  The clothes I wear are sexy. I don’t look like someone’s over-worked, underpaid mother.  I look like someone that wants to be looked at.  And most days I do.  I want to be noticed because once you aren’t then people think you’re replaceable.  I want to be noticed because isn’t the basest part of us sexual?  I certainly am not planning on jumping anyone’s bones and when I dress for work I do not expect to be raped on my way home.

Someone referred to us as peacocks.  Except in the wild side of peacock land it is the male that presents for the female.  The male that is beautiful while the females are plain.  It’s the male that puts on the show with his pretty feathers – all for sex.  As women, many of us are putting on that pretty show to get ahead, not in bed.  Most of us like pretty, even enjoy it. 

Men scoff and say she was wearing spandex, skin tight, she wants us to look!  Maybe, but I like my pretty spandex.  I look forward to wearing it to work out.  It’s an incentive, an alternative to my baggy, raggy gray shorts.  It hugs my skin, wicks moisture away, and contrary to popular belief – it’s not tight. 

In short, guys, we’re not dressing to get laid.  We dress this way to feel better about ourselves in a world where we are told to be thin, young, smart, ageless, blemish free, carefree, successful, forgiving, motherly, sexy, and anything else you might be able to throw on us.  We do this for us, and occasionally for you.  Sometimes we do go out looking for sex.  We’re human.  It doesn’t mean we want it with you, and it doesn’t mean that just because we are out there you have the right to take it from us. 

It’s funny.  I was raped in my own bed by a friend’s boyfriend.  I had been out that night, came home, closed my bedroom door while they were sleeping in the living room.  I had on a t-shirt and underwear.  I had a blanket over me. 

Considering how I was dressed, I must’ve been asking for it.